


He makes the sound the sea makes

by nanases_h



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Edo Period, Festivals, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tanabata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanases_h/pseuds/nanases_h
Summary: Haruka is a prince whose ship sank while sailing to the Land of the Rising Sun. He was found washed up on the shore by Makoto, a member of the noble Tachibana clan. Unable to remember his past, he was given a new name and identity.Five years later, Haruka and Makoto still celebrate the same festivals together, asking the celestial forces to never tear them apart.





	He makes the sound the sea makes

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from alt-J’s ‘Dissolve Me’. 
> 
> It says:  
>  _She makes the sound_  
>  _the sound the sea makes_  
>  _to calm me down_
> 
> and I think that’s beautiful.
> 
> This is for freebananase on Tumblr, for exchanging headcanons and screaming about MakoHaru with me. (◕ᴗ◕✿)

To Haruka, time passed by like water flowing along the river. Clinging to it was meaningless as it would only slip through his fingers and return to its natural course. With the passage of time came changes and he wished everything stayed the same. Sighing, he looked to his side and found a pair of eyes— vivid green as the woodland— studying him.  

“What?” asked Haruka.

“Nothing,” said Makoto, looking up to the sky.

The way the corners of his lips curled told Haruka otherwise. He raised an eyebrow.

“I was only remembering how the townspeople say you’re a water spirit,” said Makoto, “because you swim like you belong to the water.”

Whenever Haruka was walking around the castle town, he could hear people whisper among themselves about him, the mysterious foreigner. Some of them believed he was a water spirit while the others were convinced he was a son of Suiji, the water god, himself.

He remembered the first time he and Makoto went swimming in the river. Makoto had stopped and sat on a boulder to watch him, an entranced expression on his face. As Haruka came out of the water, Makoto offered his hand to help him up and said, _I have never seen anyone swim so beautifully._

“Maybe I am,” said Haruka, turning to the other side as he felt his face heat up.

The forest sound grew louder with the long stretch of silence that followed.

In the Land of the Rising Sun, forests brimmed with life. The wind rushed, stirring awake all woodland creatures. Birds hummed cheerful melodies that echoed across the vast expanse of trees. Water coursed through the river like a gentle song.

They lay on their backs and paddled their arms overhead while listening to the consistent rhythm of the current.

Makoto loved swimming as much as Haruka did. Both of them preferred rivers over the wide and deep ocean, and because of this, the two of them would mount their horses and head to the forest a couple of days each week to go swimming.

Haruka faced Makoto.

His long, olive brown hair flowed like ribbons of ink in water. His eyes reflected the sky and his face glowed under the warm afternoon light. He looked happiest when he was admiring the sky as he swam.

After they finished indulging in the river, they lay in the meadow to let themselves dry. The warm afternoon breeze caressed their faces as leaves rustled in the wind. They lay beside each other under the canopy of oak trees, watching the clouds drift across the sky. Barely exchanging a word, they allowed themselves to have this moment of peace before heading back to the town. Back to duties, to social graces, and to strangers whispering among themselves.

Haruka put his clothes back on, draping his yukata over his damp undergarments. He slipped on his wooden sandals and playfully clunked them against the stones. As he looked up, he caught Makoto’s eyes, and they held their gaze for a moment.

Makoto’s hair cascaded down his face to his hips. Out of habit, Haruka reached out to tuck the strands behind his ear. He loved playing with Makoto’s hair. Haruka had always found himself winding it in his fingers and kissing it softly while Makoto played the bamboo flute on their quiet nights together.

Haruka smiled at the sight of Makoto’s face catching the bright afternoon light. People had been saying Haruka was a water spirit, but _had they seen Makoto?_ He glowed with pure beauty and kindness that it would be blasphemy to think he was less than a deity.

The wild beating of Haruka’s heart increased when Makoto returned his smile. He shut his eyes and closed the distance between them with his lips. A sigh of relief escaped him as Makoto kissed him back, wrapping his broad hands around Haruka’s waist. He let Makoto explore with his lips wherever he wanted, from his chin to his jaw to the side of his neck, while slipping his hand inside Makoto’s yukata and feeling the warmth in his chest.  

He wished for time to stop and let them stay like that.  

Haruka was lost in his thoughts when Makoto stopped laying kisses on the side of his face and pulled away, his fists clenched around Haruka’s yukata. Breathlessly, he said, “W-We’re going to be late for the festival, Haru.”

Haruka smoothened the confusion in his face. “Right. Of course.”

But before he could turn away, Makoto pulled him close and kissed him one last time. His lips clung to Haruka’s as though they wanted to make him their home.  

A little bit dazed from their little escapade in the forest, the two of them finally mounted their horses and rode in silence back to the castle to prepare for the festival that evening. Haruka could hardly hear the galloping of his steed because of his insides roaring with joy.

The trees blurred together and melted into a series of wooden houses as they approached the castle town.

Like always, they passed by a little port called Gate Island. Merchants packed up their tiny wooden stalls to end their long and busy day. Fishermen hauled their nets into their boats to sail for the evening. Some people strolled along the pavement to watch the setting sun.

The empire had isolated itself from the rest of the world many decades ago, and as a result, it had little tolerance to everything that had to do with other nations including their politics, culture, and people.

Gate Island was the empire’s only window to the outside world. It was where foreigners were allowed to trade and live, and where locals could study foreign arts and sciences.

Haruka would often go there to admire the sunset colours upon the calm sea. Perhaps he was also looking at the foreign faces, hoping he would find a piece of himself in the people from the Far West. He would lose track of time until Makoto found him to bring him back to the castle.  

Five years had passed since the tragedy that befell Haruka had brought him to the Land of the Rising Sun. He had no memory of it, but Makoto said he had found Haruka washed up on the shore one morning and brought him to his family. From the debris they found on the beach, they suspected that Haruka was sailing with his crew when a massive storm destroyed his ship and took the life of everyone in it except for his. The calamity had wiped away Haruka’s past life including his own name and the only remnant he had of it was a golden brooch that signified he might belong to a royal family in the Far West.

“My siblings must be waiting for us,” said Makoto with a fond smile as he gazed at his home.

From a distance, the castle was the sinking sun itself with its gold-plated walls glistening under the afternoon light. It was the centrepiece of the natural beauty surrounding it, perched in the middle of towering trees and evergreen mountains.

Haruka and Makoto unmounted their horses and entered the castle. The servants formed two straight lines, one for each side of the entryway, to bow and greet them _welcome home_.

The Tachibana clan came from a long line of feudal lords and had ruled this castle town for centuries. They were able to maintain peace in their land by just means and thus, they were well-loved by their people. The daimyo and head of the family was Makoto’s father and Makoto himself would succeed his father someday.

They headed to the zen garden to announce their arrival to Makoto’s mother, the Lady Tachibana. She was a sight to behold standing by the pond and bathed in the brilliant light. Her dark olive waist-length hair was looped at the back with a lacquer comb on top. Her embroidered yukata complemented the garden with the colours of summer. A smile graced her red lips upon seeing them approach.

Haruka and Makoto bowed their heads low to pay their respects. Lady Tachibana laughed softly beneath the sleeve of her yukata. She had always teased them for being too formal in their own home. Arms outstretched, she approached and embraced the two of them.

“Welcome home,” she said, “Makoto, Haruka.”

She was hardly finished speaking when Makoto’s twin siblings, Ren and Ran, dashed towards Haruka and Makoto and latched onto each of them like a pair of octopuses.

“Mako-chan!”

“Haru-chan!”

Makoto laughed and greeted his siblings. Haruka brushed his fingers across their hair. They were taller than his waist now; they were growing quickly.

“What took you so long?” Ran pouted, her teal eyes wide.

“Well, we got a little lost in the forest,” said Makoto, looking and smiling at Haruka, who whipped his head to the side in return.

“Can you take us with you next time?” Ren asked as he gave Haruka the same pleading eyes his twin sister gave Makoto.

“Of course,” replied Haruka.

“Your garments for the festival are ready,” said Lady Tachibana. “You may find them in your rooms.”

Makoto nodded. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Now, now,” said Lady Tachibana, addressing the twins, “You must finish your _shamisen_ practice before your father arrives from Edo. Come.”

The twins hesitantly let go of Haruka and Makoto, but followed their mother back inside the castle’s west wing. Lady Tachibana looked back one last time and, if Haruka’s eyes did not deceive him, winked.

“Did you say Rin and Sousuke will be at the festival?” asked Haruka once they were walking along the corridor inside the east wing. Servants stopped to bow their heads to them.

“Yes, they are visiting for the weekend,” said Makoto.

Matsuoka Rin and Yamazaki Sousuke belong to their respective noble clans in neighbouring castle towns and they had known Makoto since childhood. Nowadays, they often visited the Tachibanas to maintain their strong ties by inviting Makoto and Haruka for swimming races in the river.   

Haruka and Makoto stopped in front of their rooms.

“Do not take too long,” said Makoto with a teasing grin.

“I will not,” replied Haruka, sliding his door open.

He approached the right-hand corner of his room to light up the _okiandon,_ a vertical box stand that housed a candle. An orange glow immediately bloomed across his room and on the wall he found his festival yukata ensemble. It was a cotton fabric masterwork with white and dark blue swirls reminiscent of sea waves and dolphins. He flipped the underside of the sleeve’s hem and as always, he found the kanji symbol 遙. _Haruka_.

A familiar warmth filled his chest. When Makoto found him on the shore, he took him to his family to nurse him back to health. He was nothing but a stranger on the verge of death, but they sheltered him, clothed him, and treated him as their own without asking for anything in return.

They comforted him when he could not remember who he was no matter how hard he tried. They were patient with him when he was confused and terrified because he spoke a language that no one understood and was surrounded by people whom he had never seen before. They had given him a new name to take the place of his forgotten one.

They had taught him their way of life. Haruka’s earliest memories of this lifetime included Makoto teaching him how to eat with chopsticks, to wear a kimono properly, and to hold a sword.

When the Lord and the Lady Tachibana found out he had an affinity for the arts, they bought him the best painting supplies available and gave him his own drawing room where he dabbled with calligraphy and painted images of the floating world for hours. _The castle had never been this happy before you came, Haruka,_ the Lady Tachibana told him once while they were walking along the garden. Even though he could not remember his previous life, he knew that he, too, had never been this happy.

However, despite it all, there were times when Haruka would drown in despair.

He might speak the native tongue and behave like the local people now, but he remained _foreign_. He could feel it from the way people looked and talked about him. People in this land had different hair and eyes colours— from blazing red to moss green and everything in between— but they never failed to mention they had never seen anyone who looked like him.

Haruka would never get used to people touching him without his permission, but Makoto’s grandmother was an exception. Before she passed away two winters ago, she would cup Haruka’s face with both of her hands. She would gaze into his eyes and tell him that he had _eyes as blue as the Nihonkai._

Haruka liked walking with her along the pond because something in her brought him peace; perhaps it was the sound of her voice or the stories of the ancient seas that she liked telling him repeatedly. And his chest would crumple like a thin sheet of paper every time because something about it was very familiar and frustration would swallow him because he could not remember why.  

The same emotions betrayed him whenever Makoto’s parents showed affection to their children, making Haruka loathe himself for wondering if his own family was looking for him at all.

He removed the yukata ensemble from its hanging bar and started getting dressed. He changed into a new set of cotton undergarments and wrapped the left side of the yukata over the right. Wrapping his fingers around the soft fabric, he took his time to admire its beautiful patterns and colours.

He stood in front of the mirror and gazed at the young, raven-haired man in it. A thin, sword-shaped scar sliced across his forehead, a cruel reminder of his tragedy. He pulled some hair strands to cover it and pursed his lips.  

A gentle knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts. “Haru, are you finished?”

He opened his sliding door and let Makoto in. Even in the candle light, Haruka did not fail to notice the reddish tint in Makoto’s cheeks.

“You look nice,” Makoto muttered to the floor.

“So do you,” said Haruka.

Makoto’s yukata was almost identical to his— it was the _matcha_ green counterpart of Haruka’s white and sea-blue ensemble except it had creatures akin to orca whales instead of dolphins. It hung loosely on Makoto’s tall and muscular figure, giving him an elegant flair.

Haruka checked the sleeve and found Makoto’s name on it too. He found the empire’s naming system very fascinating. Meanings varied depending on the characters used. For example, Makoto’s name had different meanings but it was written in a way that meant _truth_ , and it could not have been more fitting with his personality. On the other hand, the name they had given him, ‘Haruka’, meant _distant._ Makoto was fond of shortening it to ‘Haru’, which meant _spring._ He said it suited him perfectly because it was springtime when he found him, and if Haruka would be honest, he liked it better.

“Your mother truly likes giving us matching clothes, does she not?” said Haruka.

The reddish tint returned to Makoto’s cheeks. “Y-You’re getting better at dressing up.”

Dressing up used to annoy Haruka very much especially in the winter months because of all the layers he had to put on. But it was summer, and so he could handle it on his own.

“I’m not confident about how my obi is wrapped, however,” replied Haruka. “Will you help me?”

Makoto stepped behind him to undo his obi. Haruka held his hair up so it would not get in the way. He had let it grow and reach his waist so he could tie it up like how every man in the empire wore it. Makoto expertly pulled the obi sash around his waist with the right amount of tightness and secured it at the back with a bow.  

“Better?” asked Makoto.

“Yes,” replied Haruka.

“Good.” Makoto pressed a soft kiss to the back of Haruka’s neck that melted his spine. Then, Makoto draped his arms around Haruka’s chest and rested his cheek on top of his head. Haruka wrapped his arms over around his. They remained still for a while.

Their moment of peace was interrupted by a deafening thunderclap. Haruka’s entire body stiffened on instinct.

Makoto tightened his hold around him and said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

Haruka’s lips trembled. He closed his eyes and slowly, he breathed in and out.

Changes overflowed Haruka’s life in the last five years, but his fear of storms never wavered. A whirlpool of dread would drown him every time and Makoto would try to bring him back to the surface with his soothing voice, saying, _nothing will hurt you, I am here, you are safe_.

Sometimes, he would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and crying from the piercing pain in his head. He knew he was far from danger but that did not stop his mind and his body from reliving his worst experiences and it infuriated him.

He hated how Makoto would rush to his room to comfort him. He hated how he relied on Makoto, how weak it made him feel, but Makoto would hush him and told him it was okay to be scared. _I lost someone to the sea too_ , Makoto told him one evening as angry flashes of lightning struck the sky. Makoto had never looked terribly sad; Haruka’s chest _hurt_.

They would find comfort in curling into each other. Makoto would hold him, press his chest against Haruka’s back so he could feel his steady heartbeat. He would hum a soft melody that sounded like the calm sea, and slowly, eventually, Haruka would feel safe.

Pulse to pulse, they would cling to each other until morning light.

* * *

The festival was in full swing once they reached the town centre. Light chatter filled the atmosphere. Families and friends walked together in their colourful yukata, admiring the vibrant ornaments hanging from the poles and the bamboo trees. The smell of fresh grilled squid and fish wafted in the open air.

Haruka must have appeared anxious still because Makoto took his hand and squeezed it. Haruka squeezed his hand back. _I’m okay_.

“Haruka! Makoto!”

Around the corner was Matsuoka Rin, who was waving and flashing his sharp teeth. Yamazaki Sousuke stood beside him with a smooth expression in his face, which Rin had always told him to change into a smile to make him look more welcoming. Both of them donned yukata of rich red and black patterns, their long hair tied up in a topknot. They carried their ensembles with such effortless grace common to the aristocratic class.

“You’re late,” said Rin.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rin. We have just arrived,” said Sousuke.

Rin sighed. “I was only teasing, Sousuke.”

“Or being dramatic.”

“I am not.” He turned to Haruka and Makoto. “How are you both? Been swimming in the river lately?”

“We went there earlier actually,” said Haruka.

Rin’s ruby red eyes glowed. “You owe me a race last time. Do you remember, Haru?”

Haruka had a cold the last time Rin and Sousuke were in the castle town. He had wanted to race him, but Makoto was able to persuade him to stay in his futon.

“Yes, yes,” said Haruka. “We shall do it tomorrow.”

Rin’s face brightened with excitement. “I will not lose!”

“Of course, you won’t.”

“It has been a while since we spent Tanabata together, has it not?” asked Makoto.

“Yes,” said Rin. He looked around and gazed at the lanterns overhead. “Your town celebrates it best.”

Makoto beamed. “The people love it very much.”

“As do I,” said Rin. “Two lovers separated by the universe and are only able to meet once a year on the seventh day of the seventh month… who doesn’t find that romantic?”

“There he goes. Careful, Rin,” said Sousuke, with a teasing grin. “I don’t want to be seen with you crying.”

Rin’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “Try not to get lost when I leave you here.”

Makoto smiled sheepishly. “Why don’t we enjoy the festivities?”

Rin and Sousuke elbowed each other in the ribs before giving up and walked in front of Haruka and Makoto. Some time while gazing at the sights, they managed to entwine their fingers together.

Haruka had seen it all unfold and it took all of his self-control to keep his sharp tongue from telling them how utterly silly they were.

The red bridge was alight with lanterns, its enchanting reflection rippling across the lake. _Fukinagashi_ of different prints and patterns danced in the wind. These paper streamers, Haruka learned, represented the fabric made by Orihime, one of the star-crossed lovers.

Makoto entertained himself by watching Haruka become amused by the little things like goldfish swimming inside massive tanks. He wore the same smile whenever Haruka stumbled over his words or when he failed at picking up his food with chopsticks.

While walking around the lake’s edge, Rin and Sousuke were exhausted bickering and invited everyone to buy some _takoyaki_.

“— right, Sousuke?” said Rin. His eyebrows knit together. “Where’s Sousuke?”

Haruka shrugged. Makoto searched around him.

“Sousuke! Sousuke!” yelled Rin. _“Yamazaki!”_

“I thought he was following us,” said Makoto.

“He was just here! That idiot. Unbelievable,” Rin grumbled. “You two go ahead, I will look for him. His clan will have my head—”

He complained until he disappeared behind a crowd of street performers.  

Makoto laughed and Haruka frowned.

“They never change.” Makoto shook his head. He looked over his shoulder and saw a desk where people were writing on _tanzuku_.

“Come, Haru,” he said, taking Haruka’s hand. “Let’s write our wishes.”

People bowed their heads low as they approached the desk. Makoto greeted them back with a slight blush that always bloomed when he was facing his people. He gave Haruka a strip of paper and a brush, and together, they wrote their wishes.

It was a tradition they took part in every year. Tanabata was the season where people would make their wishes, believing that the same celestial forces that reunite Orihime and her lover, Hikoboshi, could also grant theirs.

Makoto hung his paper on the right side of the bamboo tree. _The higher you put your_ tanzuku _, the easier the gods can reach your wish,_ he would always say. Haruka went to the tree’s opposite end where Makoto could not read it and tied his _tanzuku_.

When they were finished, Makoto took Haruka’s hand, his thumb drawing gentle circles on his knuckles.

“What did you wish for?”

“For more mackerel.”

Makoto laughed in a way that made Haruka’s heart somersault in his chest. He pressed Haruka’s hand, and he pressed back harder.

They climbed to the top of a hill by the sea where a small shrine stood, their quiet spot above the bustling town. They stopped after passing through the _torii_ and leaned against the wooden railing.  

Haruka closed his eyes to feel the cool sea breeze and listened to the song of the waves. He gazed at the sky. Perhaps it was raining somewhere else, but the castle town was blessed with a starry sky tonight. Orihime could cross the river bridge and be reunited with Hikoboshi once again.   

Below them was the shore where a few couples sat talking and admiring the stars, perhaps trying to pinpoint the reunited lovers.

Makoto pointed at the stars like an overly-eager child. “Look, Haru— shooting stars! Make a wish!”

He closed his eyes as trails of starlight flew across the sky.

Haruka was not one to believe in making wishes. To him, they were only words on paper and dust burning in the sky. But on this day each year, he let himself believe. He would put his faith in the universe to not let him and Makoto suffer the same fate as Orihime and Hikoboshi.

Five years had gone and his fears might still haunt him, but with all the good things he had at present, he could only want for one thing.

Closing his eyes, he made the same wish he did every year: to remain by Makoto’s side until the end of time.  

**Author's Note:**

> okay okay amnesia AUs are my guilty pleasure. i haven’t written one and when opportunity presented itself, i grabbed it (hello angst my old friend). 
> 
> it’s my first time, however, to write a period fic, and it may be out of my comfort zone but i really enjoyed it. i’m not exactly aiming for historical accuracy here. i kept details vague to give it fairytale vibes, but it is obviously inspired by Edo period Japan. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent fic! leave a comment and let me know what you think.  
> 
> 
> hit me up on [Tumblr](http://nanases-h.tumblr.com) owo


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